Last Tuesday, I finished Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo and went on my first run. As I left the house, I called to Ryan in the kitchen, “Going out for a quick run.” Easy, right? My run began on a downhill slope. My legs pounded quickly, quickly. I felt strong and confident. After two hundred feet at this pace, I felt faint. My face tomato skin red, my lungs anxiously sucked in air, my legs like boiled spaghetti noodles. My inner voice told me to run, but my body told me that was impossible. “Pace yourself,” I heard. I always begin too enthusiastically and quickly lose all steam, which begets a cycle of fleeting highs and prolonged lows. “Once I pass the man and his dog, I will walk,” I told myself. Slowing to a walk, I felt defeated, humbled, determined. “At the next street lamp I will jog again.” As I walked briskly towards the street lamp, I listened to my winded breath and my inner voice. “I am so out of shape. This is embarrassing. This person and that person can run forever. I am out of shape. I am not a runner. I hate to run.” These self-defeating thoughts continued to beat me down until the light post when my compulsiveness made me run again. I ran for another two hundred feet and stopped at a crosswalk to wait for the light to force my inertia. I contemplated turning around, but chose to keep going. “Keep going,” I encouraged myself. “I can do this. It will hurt, but the more I practice the better I will become.” As I continued my walk and run pattern, I thought about how I have let negative thoughts ruin endeavors in my life. The painting that I have not finished because I did not get it right the first time. The Blogs I have not written because I feared sitting down at a blank computer screen with nothing important to say. This pattern of unfinished creativity that robs my loved ones and myself from the process of getting to know me because I fear the unknown, I fear mistakes, I fear my own self-judgment. “No,” I thought, “I am not a good runner, I am not a fast runner, and I am not a runner, yet!” As I ran that evening, I realized like most things in life (writing, baking, sewing, singing, sex) running takes practice to become good. Everyday this summer, I told my eighth grade students that writing takes practice, that the more you write the better you will become, that it is a skill to acquire. Running is no different. My desire to be amazing at everything I do, the moment I decide to undertake it often deters me from trying new things because of the pressure I put on myself to be a natural. I have read a lot of books, but last week I finished the longest book I have ever read (1250 pages), that day I also ran for the first time in years. Subconsciously, both inspired me to began a journey to have patience with myself. I pledge to give myself time to become a runner, swimmer, writer, gardener, and painter… or whatever, and be gentle with myself in the process of making these pursuits into genuine hobbies instead of whims. Tonight, I went on my third run. It was a little easier than the last run and a lot easier than the first run. I took fewer walking breaks in-between jogs and I ran up hill. I still cannot say I enjoy running, like I enjoy swimming, but I felt good once I finished.
4 comments:
Ah, my beautiful friend...these are the lessons that life is made of.
When Daniel and I got engaged he said, "You need to be a journey person." A journey person? What the heck is that! "Brie, you are always so focused on the destination that you don't enjoy the journey." At the time, I did not see the drive to the airport or the six hour flight with 2 layovers or baggage claim or the 3 hour drive after a long day of travel as part of the "experience." All those things were in the way of my goal...a nuisance...an inconvenience...an irritation.
Being married to Daniel and watching him interact with the journey made me want to be like him. It really did not take long for me to really embrace this new way of traveling.
I am reminded of all this as I read your blog. It is not in becoming a fast or excellent runner that you become a runner. No, it is in running that makes you a runner. The fact that you paint makes you a painter. Your writing makes you a writer. And yet where life is truly lived is in the process of the pursuit of something greater and better. A better runner. A better painter. A better writer. One of life's greatest misfortunes is that the journey eludes us as we only focus on the destination and miss the joy of the in-between.
And so, I applaud you, dear friend. I believe you have begun to unravel one of most important keys to true happiness.
Jess, I think it's amazing that you realized something that really can change your life! Those realizations are few and far between, at least for me. Thank you for writing this, as it reminds me of my own fears and my own crazy strive for "perfection".
I have always had this drive for perfection (it's decreased over the years) in most things I do, and I remember my mom would say "Only Jesus is perfect, so cut it out! None of us will ever be perfect or should ever try to be (except in His eyes)."
I know what you mean by missing out on so many things because of fear. And I'm so happy that you are writing again and I'm excited to see what new projects you'll take on. Hey- you're the only person I know in an Improv class- so you are facing fear head on!
Failing is someone who does not try at all. I am proud of you Jess:)
Wow. I love to hear from my friends. You all have great thoughts. Thank you for reading mine.
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